


almost easy

by pleurer



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Adult Peter Parker, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time Together, Guilt, Introspection, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-24 15:48:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21640447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pleurer/pseuds/pleurer
Summary: A side effect of having people place you on a pedestal was that sometimes, you liked what they saw in you, even when you knew it wasn’t real.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 10
Kudos: 111
Collections: 300bpm Flash Exchange November 2019





	almost easy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vandoorne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vandoorne/gifts).



> Loosely inspired by [Side Effects - Stray Kids](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5rPluw_-Eb4). 
> 
> Vandoorne, I was happy to see your request, because I love Peter/Tony and I love Stray Kids. Hope you enjoy. 
> 
> CW for recreational drinking, but the sex happens when they're both sober.
> 
> Written anonymously for a fic exchange. I’ve since redated this fic for author reveals.

It was easy to blame it on the way Peter looked: hair gelled carelessly back, pink lips that just might’ve been highlighted with gloss, broad shoulders wearing a studded leather jacket that glinted under the lights so that Tony couldn’t look away. It was easier still to blame it on the alcohol that Tony downed to rid himself of these thoughts, only to backfire and wipe away his inhibitions while the thoughts remained.

He couldn’t remember who made the first move, but what he did remember was that their mouths fit easily together, like two pieces of a puzzle— see, Tony knew he was drunk solely based on the fact that he could think something so cliche without cringing. And then he stopped thinking at all when Peter stuck a hand down Tony’s back pocket and squeezed, pulling their hips together so that Tony could feel just how hard Peter had gotten from making out.

Tony had invited enough people to the party that nobody noticed when they slipped quietly away. There were a number of places where they could do this— guest bedrooms were appropriately impersonal for a one-night tryst, or even— Tony thought fleetingly of fucking Peter up against the bathroom counter, sucking marks on his neck and tilting his head to watch himself in the mirror. But he wanted something else, something he himself could barely put a name to. And by the noise Peter made when Tony picked him up and dropped him on Tony’s own bed in the master bedroom, Peter wanted the same.

A side effect of having people place you on a pedestal was that sometimes, you liked what they saw in you, even when you knew it wasn’t real. Tony liked the way Peter looked at him still with hints of the wide-eyed adoration he'd displayed as a kid. He liked the way Peter’s eyes darkened with lust when Tony pulled off his own shirt. He didn’t like that there was a mix of the two. He had sobered up by now, and he knew with clarity that once they combined these two very different facets of their affection, there was no going back. 

Tony stilled just before tugging Peter’s pants off, a silent question in his eyes, and Peter’s hips twitched up as he said, “If you stop now I’ll never forgive you.” 

Tony thought, _If I don’t stop now I’ll never forgive myself._ But he gave in anyway, let himself touch Peter’s gorgeous body the way he’d wanted to for years, let himself wrap a hand around Peter’s cock, and heard himself chuckle as Peter stiffened and came with a harsh whimper. When Tony tried to pull away Peter held on to his wrist and said, “No, wait. I can go again.”

It turned out _again_ meant twice more before Tony even got the chance to be inside of him. Once with Tony’s mouth on his cock, and once with two fingers buried inside his ass, and then finally, shaking and determined and with a dusting of pink on his sweaty skin, Peter climbed on top of Tony and sank down on his cock.

The sense of wondrous disbelief that washed over Tony was also accompanied by a sense of dread, for he was fucking Peter, young, resilient, beautiful Peter, who deserved leagues better than a sorry excuse for a superhero mentor, already past his prime. But then Peter latched his lips onto the hollow of Tony’s neck and murmured into his skin, “Don’t think,” and Tony found himself obeying that command. He let himself be swept away by the flaring hot burn of Peter’s hands sliding down his waist, the steady, unbearable rhythm of Peter bouncing on his cock until the pleasure of release wiped out everything else so cleanly that for a moment, it was almost easy for Tony not to blame himself.

***

The next morning, Tony woke up with a pounding headache, wondering how the hell he got himself into this mess. He looked at Peter, peacefully asleep, bed hair poking up in every direction, and felt, fundamentally, that something had changed. Something in his chest that he’d thought was hardened and untouchable had shifted, had been moved by what happened last night. He dug out an Aspirin from his bedside table, swallowed it dry, and tried not to think about it.

His free hand rested just inches from Peter's naked shoulder. He looked down at his hand, rough and calloused, not meant for holding delicate things— not that Peter himself was delicate, but the feelings they held between them were certainly breakable if one wasn’t cautious. Tony had tried to be cautious, had successfully kept his impulses at bay for years until one Peter Parker had to go and look unfairly good at the wrong time. Go figure that the one terrible consequence Tony had cautiously tried to prevent was the one that was happening right now. 

“I can hear you thinking,” said Peter. He had blinked one eye open and propped his head up against an arm and was regarding Tony with an unreadable expression. 

“I didn't know you had _that_ kind of superpower,” said Tony, keeping his voice level. In fact he was panicking, heart rattling against his ribcage like a trapped beast, because now that Peter was awake, they were going to have to talk about it. He could see Peter's clothes, abandoned haphazardly on the floor, and wondered how quickly he could pick them up and toss them at Peter and ask him to leave. Rip off the proverbial bandaid.

“I didn’t mean it literally,” said Peter with a chuckle. He scooched closer and wrapped a hand around Tony’s wrist, and said, “You don’t have to say anything. Just— do you mind if I stay? I’ll make breakfast. I can make a mean blueberry pancake.”

There were a hundred reasons why Peter shouldn't stay, and only one why he should. But sometimes, just one was enough. 

"Yeah, kid? You'd better keep your word, because I'm starving."


End file.
